


Survival and Love

by RayneSummer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Malia character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 14:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12060999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayneSummer/pseuds/RayneSummer
Summary: In the end, it didn't matter either way. They remembered. They won. In the end.However, wins always come with their loses. Another fact she'd forgotten. And soon after they got Stiles back – well, he was never hers anyway – he left again. They were bound for different destinations. Literally.It was probably fate. Or destiny. Or some shit like that.Probably.----A Malia Tate character study. Her struggle with humanity, with her anchor, and for survival.





	Survival and Love

**Author's Note:**

> Malia is incredible, she's come so far and is amazing, definitely one of my most favourite characters. I love her relationship with Stiles, and this is my way of commemorating that, and justifying her blossoming relationship with Scott. Not that I particularly resent it, but this is just how I justify/explain it, and her loyalty to the pack, especially Stiles, and her struggle with humanity.

Malia has never really known how to love or even like; generally, a rule of survival in the wild is never to trust anything – unless you can kill it, maybe.

And everything can be killed, eventually.

When she was a coyote, things were simple. Living was simple. Hunt, eat, sleep, and all the other basic functions; they came quickly and stayed. She couldn't remember a time when there wasn't a feeling or injury she couldn't sleep off.

She knew how to live. Or, more accurately, she knew how to survive. Wild animals didn't have much of a life, she's discovered.

But then had come Stiles, and Scott. Then had come her transformation, the awful time stuck in Eichen House, but then there was Stiles again. And it was after that when her life actually started.

It wasn't nice. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't a miracle, or a thrilling adventure, or any other bullshit people say about starting anew.

(She heard a lot of that sort of bullshit, especially in Eichen House, especially when all she wanted was to return to a coyote – to escape the guilt and all the damn feelings that came with humanity. She thought all of it was bullshit. And she was partly right.)

In those months following Stiles' almost demise with some kind of Japanese ghost spirit demon thing, she'd watched him recover. Just because she didn't understand what had happened didn't mean that she didn't care what then would happen. Because she did care. Too much.

Stiles, with Scott's help, taught her control, and how to function, and how to behave, and most of all how to like and love again.

Love with Stiles was very physical. And that didn't mean sex. No, it was everything about them that was physical. They had to hold each other, to touch each other, to feel actually like there was someone there that cared. And in the weeks after they found each other, that was hard, because she was too rough and Stiles was too weak. That was when she first found, first discovered, the feeling of being gentle.

It took a while. She didn't understand a lot else besides Stiles. In Mexico, yes, she'd been willing to leave Lydia, leave them all – apart from Stiles. And as they were all hunted, she did her best to stay by his side – by the pack's side.

Then came the lies.

She didn't know forgiveness. She couldn't figure it out. She only knew she still wanted to be by him, but the feeling – later, she found out it was most similar to betrayal – just kept her away.

Well, until that afternoon in the hospital. He was hurt. She went to see him. What else was she meant to do?

Melissa had been kind, as always.

Stiles had been... her anchor. As soon as she was near him, forgave him, feelings she could understand came back.

The rest of that year was eventful, to say the least. Back in Mexico, same feelings, different understandings. This time she didn't even try to run off, no matter the small feeling of self-preservation from her wild days. Because Stiles had said not to, all those weeks before.

Scott may have been the first person she actually saw, but Stiles was the first person she connected with.

They'd been okay, over the summer. He didn't stop teaching her. And she didn't stop needing it, no matter how much she got, she understood, she loved. And he didn't stop needing her.

When senior year started, she had been so relieved to be accepted that the difficulty hadn't registered until lessons became a struggle. And that wasn't the only thing that was a struggle; it was everything, and not just physically being paralysed or hurt – it was mentally taxing, so hard that she wished for the simple animal life she once had.

Not that she ever said that. Because she didn't really mean it, mostly.

Senior year was weird. Everything she thought she knew seemed to dissolve and not even Stiles was reliable. There were too many feelings around him; it almost hurt to be around him – and she didn't know how to deal with that.

She didn't know how to deal with the Chimeras, with Theo's clear lies and evil intentions, as clear as his scarless body. But it wasn't his body that got her. It was his promises of getting the Desert Wolf, of eliminating her mother for good.

But she couldn't tell them. She couldn't tell Stiles, his mind riddled with enough things; she couldn't tell Scott, the foolish, brilliant, wolf he was.

Secrets were kept, on her side and others, and it was too much.

When things peaked and Stiles' dad was in danger, she helped, yes. And smelling the fear and desperation coming off Stiles from miles away just... hurt her heart, in a way claws never could.

So she stayed away. And Theo, surprisingly, kept most of his promises. Some of them. Good thing she'd had Braedon on her side too.

Things happened. Stiles' vision became further away. Her humanity began to desert her. She fought valiantly, her mother, the Chimeras, all the feelings crowding her brain.

They won, of course. After a long time. But Theo had broken the ability to trust in her. And he had broken Stiles in more than many ways.

He'd broken the pack.

Still she cared. She fought The Desert Wolf with all her strength, and with Stiles' help, defeated her. But seeing her only anchor laying on the floor with a piece of glass in his chest, despite his reassurances as Braedon sorted things out... it was heartbreaking.

And who knew she still had a heart to break.

They were okay, until they came. The Ghost Riders. The Wild Hunt. Whatever their name was, it didn't stand for mercy, and indeed they showed none.

Malia's control didn't just slip, it lost its entire grip, at certain times at least.

She lost the humanity she'd gained over the years; she lost the love she'd learnt; the feelings that were so complex she'd yeared to understand them properly. She lost it all. She couldn't remember.

But if not knowing was bad, then remembering what she forgot was worse.

Because how can you remember what you forgot without guilt and heartbreak almost crushing you?

In the end, it didn't matter either way. They remembered. They won. In the end.

However, wins always come with their loses. Another fact she'd forgotten. And soon after they got Stiles back – well, he was never hers anyway – he left again. They were bound for different destinations. Literally.

It was probably fate. Or destiny. Or some shit like that.

Probably.

But without him, even though only out of sight rather than memory, feelings couldn't describe themselves. Yearnings didn't stop themselves. She was lost to the world again.

After that, she had only one thing to do: leave.

But, well, she didn't. She couldn't. To hear Stiles voice, directed to her or not, reminded her of what she should be, of the paths she should take. And they weren't anywhere other than Beacon Hills.

So Malia stays. She stays by Scott's side – by the pack's side. And she tries to fight, but as they all found out, no one can really fight against fear.

But physical fight is the only real thing Malia can rely on. So without that, she is scared and worried and didn't understand what exactly else they could do. So she does the only other thing she can; stays by Scott's side.

Stiles is the one who taught her to feel, to think, to love.

Scott was always the alpha, the only one she knew or at least, cared about.

They were almost one, until they weren't. And when they weren't, only one remained. Malia craves physical touch, familiarity, and love. She can't discern from romance or survival, sometimes.

It doesn't matter anyway.

Because it's all they're left with: love, and survival. These were the first things Malia discovered, the first things she was taught. She knew how to survive, and was shown how to love.

And if they're really the only things left, then she will lose herself in them. It's all she's even known how to.

So when Scott is right in front of her; no, when they are dying; no – when there is no other choice and they are together... she kisses him, as some part of her she can't quite control silently begs for forgiveness from someone not here.

But in a way, Scott and Stiles have always been one, even apart. Brothers, and pack, and faithful friends.

And in the end, everything will be okay. As long as she knows how to survive, and that she can still love. Pack, and romance, and family, all one familiarity now.

When there's nothing left, there is always love. And there's always pack.


End file.
